


Gently Into the Night

by ImpishTubist



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Language, injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-18
Updated: 2013-01-18
Packaged: 2017-11-25 21:39:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/643245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImpishTubist/pseuds/ImpishTubist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a ship that had been christened in the blood of a massacre, Jim Kirk found it ironic that the one thing that had finally brought <i>Enterprise</i> to a halt was a malfunction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gently Into the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Dipping my toes into a new fandom and a new pairing here. [Joanna McCoy](http://en.memory-alpha.org/wiki/Joanna_McCoy) is the creation of DeForest Kelley and D.C. Fontana. Everyone else belongs to Gene Roddenberry, with many thanks to J. J. Abrams for his version of these characters. Title inspired by [this poem.](http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15377)
> 
>  
> 
> Feedback always welcome.
> 
> * * *

_ Enterprise _ was in chaos. 

For a ship that had been christened in the blood of a massacre, Jim Kirk found it ironic that the one thing that had finally brought her to a halt, two years after that harrowing maiden voyage, was a malfunction.

Several explosions had ripped through Engineering halfway through Beta Shift, and the resulting damage was ship-wide. It had taken the bridge crew close to an hour to break through the seals on the bridge's inoperable doors after the accident, and by the time they were able to get out to other sections of the ship, rescue efforts were already underway.

Seventy-two crewmembers had been injured in the disaster, including ten members of the medical staff--the first responders to Engineering. Of those seventy-two, fifteen injuries were critical and the remaining medical staff were treating them immediately. The rest of the injured were being forced to wait, either inside the medical bay or sitting in the corridor just outside, cradling burned limbs and covered in soot and grime. 

It had taken rescue crews nearly three hours to transport all the injured to the medical bay. Once that had been accomplished, Jim left Sulu in charge of the bridge and accompanied Spock to Engineering in order to assess the mechanical damage. 

“We’re gonna be dead in the water for _days_ , sir,” a dazed Scotty told them. He was clutching his left arm to his side. His sleeve had been torn away completely and a burn covered the arm from elbow to shoulder.

“You should get that looked at, Mr. Scott,” Jim said absently. His gaze was drawn once again to the darkened warp core, and to the blown-out consoles all over the room. 

Initial reports had told him that faulty circuitry behind one of the access panels had sparked and lit a slow-burning fire that ran unchecked inside the walls of Engineering, culminating in several devastating explosions. Nearly every computer console in the room had been wiped out and all of the intermix chambers had been damaged. About the only saving grace in the whole situation was the fact that the explosions had been isolated only to Engineering--though, with seventy-two injured, that wasn’t much of a consolation.

“He didn’t hesitate, Captain,” Scotty said quietly. “Rushed headlong into that inferno.”

Jim gave him a sharp look, and Scotty gave a shrug.

“Thought you’d like to know.”

Jim nodded tightly. Bones had been on duty at the time of the explosion and was currently one of the fifteen critically injured crewmembers. The room had still been ablaze when he led the first medical teams into Engineering, and one of the final explosions had caught him full in the chest.

He was currently in hour three of what was originally estimated to be a one-hour surgery.

“Thank you, Mr. Scott,” Jim said at last, casting his gaze around the room one final time. “Spock, stay here and start coordinating repair teams. I’ll be in  the medical bay .”

 

The explosion in Engineering was having lasting effects all over the ship. Half of the turbolifts were out, and lights flickered all along the corridors. Jim made his way to Deck G and  the medical ba y by memory alone, having to navigate half of it in complete darkness. 

The medical bay itself was lit by lanterns, and every biobed was occupied. Crewmembers waiting for treatment were seated on the floor along the walls, and Jim spent near an hour fetching them water or hyposprays filled with light painkillers. The operating theater was still in use, he could see, and there would be no use in bothering the doctors for news at this point. 

He was just going to have to wait.

Over the course of the next hour the medical staff managed to get to the rest of the wounded. Makeshift cots were set up around the room, and soon fifty crewmen were crammed into a space meant for only twenty-five. 

And still there was no word from the operating theater. 

Jim sat down on a low bench. He rested his forearms on his thighs and leaned forward, folding his hands together and fixing his gaze unseeingly on the floor. Bones wasn’t even supposed to have been on duty today, but two of his staff had fallen ill unexpectedly this morning and he had been left with no choice but to step in. Not that he would have stayed away once the disaster occurred, but he wouldn’t have been one of the first to jump into the hellhole that Engineering had been reduced to.

Jim straightened, cracked his neck, and sighed. He had already checked in with Arlene Smidt, the lieutenant who had graciously offered to watch Joanna when her father had been called away that morning.  Joanna had apparently been rattled by the explosion but was otherwise fine, and Bones’ quarters had suffered no ill effects from the blast. 

For a brief moment, Jim contemplated waiting for news in Bones’ quarters, suddenly longing for the little girl who had taken to him so readily the moment she arrived on _Enterprise_ eighteen months ago. Joanna had her father’s smile and his striking eyes, but she also had inherited his keen perception. She would know at once that something was amiss if Jim appeared at this hour of the night, especially if her father wasn’t in tow. And Jim didn’t think he could handle her questions, especially since he had no adequate answers himself.

“Captain.”

The soft voice startled Jim out of his thoughts, and he looked up. Christine Chapel was standing in the open doorway of the operating theater. She had changed out of her operating scrubs and was back in uniform. Jim got up from his seat and went over to her.

“How is he?”

Chapel’s answer was a beat too long in coming, and the lines at the corners of her eyes deepened in sorrow. Jim felt the blood drain from his face.

_ No _ .

“Comfortable,” Chapel said at last. “And we can keep him that way.”

“What are you saying?” Jim demanded. The corner of Chapel’s mouth tugged downward in sympathy.

“There was a lot of internal bleeding,” she said. “There’s also a good deal of scarring on his lungs from the heat, and the explosion broke some of his ribs, which then punctured some of his internal organs in return. Sir... the damage is severe. Under the best of circumstances, it might be reversible, but these aren’t even good circumstances. Half of our equipment is inoperable, and we were too long in getting to him.”

Jim stared at her.

“He’s dying.”

Chapel gave a slow nod. 

“We’ll be moving him out onto one of the biobeds in a few minutes,” she said. And then she reached out and gripped his elbow, her sympathetic gaze turning earnest. “Captain... Jim. You need to go get Joanna. Right now.”

 

Lieutenant Smidt looked up from her reading when Jim strode through the doors of Bones’ quarters.  Her expression shifted from pleasantly surprised to concerned the moment she laid eyes on his face, and she rose from her seat on the couch.

“She’s asleep,” Smidt said as Jim made for Joanna’s bedroom. “I only just put her down.”

“This can’t wait,” Jim said stiffly, and Smidt fell silent.

Joanna was curled up in the center of her Starfleet-issue bed, blue blankets pulled up to her shoulders and a stuffed bear tucked under her arm. Jim leaned over her and brushed her hair from her eyes.

“Come on, Jo-jo,” Jim said as cheerfully as he could manage, rousing her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Hey, little one. Wake up. We’re going to go visit Daddy at work.”

Joanna rubbed a fist sleepily against her eye and blinked blearily up at him.

“Daddy?” she whispered, sitting up. Jim opened his arms and she accepted the invitation readily, falling into his embrace and allowing him to lift her off the bed. She was still clad in her pajamas, and he snagged a blanket to wrap around her tiny form. Joanna gave a content little sigh, slipped her slight arms around his neck, and yawned into his shoulder. “Tired.”

“I know you are, Jo-jo, I know,” Jim said, making for the door again. “But Daddy... Daddy really wants to see you. Just for a bit.”

“Mmkay,” she muttered against his shirt, and was nearly asleep again by the time they reached the medical bay.

A privacy curtain had been pulled around a single biobed in the corner of the room. When Jim stepped around the barrier, he saw that only Nurse Chapel was there, keeping watch over her dying charge.

Bones was dressed in the standard deep blue top and trousers given to patients in Starfleet medical facilities, and there was something disconcerting about this role-reversal. Bones looked too small, his broad shoulders and the solid planes of his chest having been lost in the depths of the loose-fitting shirt. A blanket was pulled up to his waist, and his hands rested lightly on his stomach. He appeared to be asleep, but the bruises on his face and the bandage secured to the side of his neck betrayed the fact that this was far from a simple rest. His cheeks were hollow and his skin was pallid, and in the dim lighting of the lanterns Jim could see that a thin sheen of sweat covered his face. 

“Christine,” Jim greeted quietly, adjusting Joanna in his arms. Chapel rose from her perch on the stool at Bones’ side. 

“Captain,” she said softly. “He’s just resting now.”

“What’s his condition?”

“Stable,” she said. “All things considered. He’s continuing to bleed internally.”

“What can we expect?”

“He has perhaps one good hour left,” she said gently. “Two hours at the most. You can wake him, if you like, but he might not be able to stay conscious for long. He’s losing a good deal of blood.”

“And does he know...?”

Chapel gave a wry smile.

“First thing he asked when he woke up after the surgery,” she said, “was, ‘How long do I have?’ I think he knew even before we did, sir.”

Chapel paused, and then added, “The second thing he wanted to know... was if you and Joanna were all right.”

Jim nodded, silently dismissing her, and Chapel left to tend to the rest of her patients. 

Joanna was a dead weight in Jim’s arms, having fallen asleep again. Jim settled her carefully on the bed with her head on Bones’ shoulder and her tiny body tucked up against his side. He then wrapped Bones’ limp arm around her, a movement which roused him.

“Hey, Bones,” Jim whispered as Bones blinked up at him, eyes bleary with pain and medication. He tried to infuse a shade of enthusiasm into his voice, and attempted a smile. “You with us, Doc?”

Bones blinked rapidly. 

“Jim,” he said thickly, trying to focus on his face.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Jim said softly. “And you’ve got a visitor. Look.”

With some effort, Bones turned his head towards Joanna. 

“Hey, baby girl,” he croaked, and his endearment for Joanna--his, and his alone--roused her. She blinked up at him. “Y’all right?”

“She’s fine,” Jim said gently. “Not even a scratch on her.”

“Daddy,” Joanna murmured groggily. Jim felt Bones’ arm tighten around her. “Are you sick?”

“Jus’ a bit, darlin’,” Bones whispered back, a slight slur in his voice. “But don’ you worry. I got some real good people takin’ care of me.”

“Tha’s good.”

“And you know somethin’ else, sweetheart?” Bones’ voice shook, and Jim rubbed his shoulder. “I love you, Jo-jo.”

Joanna yawned and curled a hand into Bones’ shirt.

“Love you, too, Daddy,” she murmured.

Bones swallowed back what sounded like a whimper and Jim squeezed his shoulder. Joanna fell silent after that, lulled back into sleep by her father’s stunted breathing and the fingers he dragged laboriously through her hair. Every movement was an effort for him, and after some minutes the display on the wall above his head, which monitored his vitals, began to flash yellow in warning. His blood oxygen level was dropping rapidly, and his breathing was becoming more strained. 

“Hold still, Bones,” Jim said, much more calmly than he felt. He covered Bones’ hands with his own, stilling his movements.    
“Deep breaths, now. With me.”

Nurse Chapel appeared seconds later with a hypospray, and the fresh dose of medication brought near-instant relief. Bones’ blood oxygen level rose to just a hair’s breadth above the danger zone, and Jim loosened his grip on Bones' hands. But the look Chapel shot him as she ducked around the privacy curtain told Jim that this was a temporary respite, and a short one at that. 

Bones relaxed fractionally, though his breaths were halting and kept hitching in his chest. He was fast losing the strength to hold Joanna to him, and Jim aided him with a supporting hand on Joanna’s tiny back.

“So big...” Bones said on a hiss of breath. He trailed a fingertip over Joanna’s sleep-flushed cheek. “When’d... that happen?”

“When we weren’t looking,” Jim said softly. 

Bones let out a wet chuckle and pressed his lips to his daughter’s forehead. He then went quiet for a time, bloodshot eyes fixed on Joanna’s sleeping face, and Jim let them be. He stood by with a comforting hand on Bones’ arm, trying to ignore the tiny, white-hot needles of pain that flared in his chest. Bones could barely speak a sentence without having to pause for breath, and Jim was forced to wonder privately if an hour was too generous of an estimate for them.

“M’sorry, Jim.” Bones’ words wavered, and even in the dim light of the room Jim could see that his eyes were wet. “M’sorry... Don’ want... to leave. Don’ want to have t’miss this.”

“Hey.” Jim bent down over them both, his hand still on Joanna’s back, and with his other he cupped the back of Bones’ head. Bones wrapped his free arm around Jim’s shoulders, clutching him close, breaths hitching in Jim’s ear as he fought back a wave of grief. Jim swallowed back his own tears. “I know, Len. I know. I don’t want you to miss this, either. _God_. But don’t you dare apologize, you hear me? You were doing your job, and you saved _so many people_ today. That’s nothing to be sorry for.”

Bones gave a jerky nod, and Jim kissed his brow before pulling back. 

“Don’ want... her here,” Bones managed a few moments later. He swallowed hard. “Not... for this, Jim.”

Jim summoned Chapel, and Bones gave Joanna a final kiss. The touch woke her again, and for a moment father and daughter stared at one another through cloudy eyes. 

“Bye, baby girl,” Bones rasped, and Joanna went into Chapel’s arms without complaint. She raised her head off the nurse’s shoulder just before the privacy curtain closed behind them and gave her father a tiny wave. 

Bones lifted his hand weakly in return, and the moment they were gone his face crumpled. Jim was at his side again in an instant, hands cradling Bones’ face while Bones fisted both hands into the front of his shirt. Jim pressed their foreheads together, brushing his thumbs across Bones’ damp cheeks and desperately fighting back his own despair.

“Christ, Jim, what’s this... gonna do to her?” Bones choked out. “Both parents... dead before she turns six. Jesus...”

“She’s going to be _fine,”_ Jim hissed emphatically. “Len, I promise you that. She’ll... God, she worships the ground you walk on and you are her whole world, but _she will be fine.”_

Bones dug his fingers into the back of Jim’s neck, his breathing ragged and shudders still wracking his body.

“Jim... y’gotta look after her,” he managed.

“A wise man I know once said that a ‘starship ain’t no goddamn place to raise a kid,’” Jim said softly, and attempted a smile. He pulled back, taking one of Bones’ hands in his own. 

Bones sniffed, and then let out a weak huff of laughter.

“Sounds t’me... like he was an idiot.” His hand tightened in Jim’s grip, and his voice turned somber. “She’s been callin’ you _Papa..._ for near half a year, Jim. You can’t... Don’t take that away from her. She needs you.”

“Shh,” Jim hushed him, placing a hand on his forehead. “Don’t be an idiot, Bones. She’s not going anywhere. I won’t allow it.”

He brushed a thumb across Bones’ brow and added, quietly, “And I need her, too. Baby girl’s going to stay right here with me.”

“Thank you,” Bones breathed. He blew out a ragged breath between his teeth. “God dammit, Jim. Why didn’t we... ever get married? Or at least sign that... that damn contract?” 

Jim snorted.

“Because I’m a coward and you’re a fool,” he said lightly, though the reality was much different. 

Relationships among crew members in Starfleet weren’t as taboo now as they had been in the founding days of the organization, but it was still territory that needed to be traversed very carefully. To that end, Starfleet had developed a contract--not quite the same as a marriage, but a commitment nonetheless. It disclosed a relationship, put it on public record, and allowed the couple certain rights while they served in Starfleet. Chiefly, couples who signed the contract were generally assigned to the same vessel and allowed to share quarters, and they weren’t permitted to go on away missions together. 

However, had Jim and Bones signed that contract--or been married--there was a very real possibility that Bones would have then been transferred away from the ship. Starfleet tried to keep families together whenever possible, but when one of the partners was the _captain_ of a starship and the other was his subordinate, the higher-ups tended to get a bit uneasy.

And there was no way in the universe that Jim was going to allow himself to be parted from Bones and Joanna. 

Bones gave a wheezing laugh, and Jim tried not to hear the rattle in his chest.

“You’re not... a coward, Jim,” Bones whispered. “Bravest man I know, in fact.”

“Now, I know that can’t be true.” Jim smoothed a piece of sweat-damp hair off Bones’ forehead with his free hand. “Because I’m looking at him right now.”

Bones tried to offer him a crooked smile, but it was cut off by a grunt. His hand tightened on Jim’s.

“Are you in pain?”

“Jus’ a bit,” Bones croaked.

“I’ll get Chapel.”

_ “No.”  _ Bones tugged Jim back to him. His eyes were wide and imploring. “No. Painkillers... will make me go under... faster.”

“Len -”

“I go t’sleep now,” Bones hissed, “and I ain’t... wakin’ up again, Jim. _No.”_

Jim swallowed thickly and nodded. Bones loosened his desperate grip on Jim’s hand as they lapsed into silence, and Jim ran the fingers of his free hand through the silver-streaked hair at Bones’ temples. 

Bones had started to go gray early, back when they were at the Academy. It had advanced slowly over the years, and his deep brown locks still far outnumbered the silver strands, which were only truly noticeable in certain lights. Nevertheless, hardly a week went by without Bones despairing over the early gray. It made him look _too damn old_ , he complained. 

Jim loved it.

“I always thought... technology... would be the death of me,” Bones said with a weak grin, pulling Jim from his recollections. “Turns out... I was right. I just never thought... it would be... because the goddamn machines _weren’t_ working.”

Jim gave a laugh that was unrecognizable to his own ears, too high and too forced. It wiped the smile from Bones’ face.

“I’m sorry,” Jim whispered brokenly, because it had been _so good_ to see that smile. “I’m sorry, I just -”

He broke off and swallowed hard. Bones lifted his free hand to Jim’s jaw, tracing his fingertips lightly along the evening stubble. Jim turned his face into the touch and closed his eyes. 

“I was wrong, y’know,” Bones murmured after a moment.

“What’s that?” Jim took the hand from his face and kissed the ice-cold fingers before settling it back on Bones’ stomach. “Wrong about what?”

“Wrong... about this. Space. S’not just... darkness and silence.” Bones paused, dragging a ragged breath into failing lungs. “Well... it is. But I could bear it... because of you. I found... I could bear a lot of things... for you.”

“I was going to grow old with you,” Jim said suddenly. He let out an abrupt laugh, too wet this time, and blinked back the mental images of a future that would now never happen. “Can you believe that? I never thought I would grow _old,_ let alone with someone else. But I _wanted_ to, with you.”

Bones squeezed his hand.

“Sounds nice,” he murmured. Jim gave a weak laugh.

“It was.”

Silence reigned for some time, interrupted only by the beeping of the equipment monitoring Bones’ fading condition and the air rattling in his lungs. The monitor over Bones’ bed went off three more times over the course of the next half hour. On the third time, Chapel simply reached over and switched off the equipment. She slipped the hypospray she had brought over back in her pocket, and Jim felt the strength go from his legs. He leaned heavily against Bones’ bed.

“I’m sorry,” Chapel whispered. 

“No... good?” Bones managed. She shook her head.

“The medication has stopped being effective.” She hesitated a moment, and then added, “I can bring you a sedative...”

Bones shook his head.

“No. I’ll... face this... on m’feet.” He gave a wry smile. “Such as it is. Thank you... Christine. For... everything.”

Chapel clasped his proffered hand in both of her own, her eyes too bright, and Jim had to look away.

“S’not... gonna be pleasant... Jim,” Bones murmured eventually once Chapel had gone again. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Jim said firmly. 

“Y’sure? ‘Cause I can’t... feel my legs... anymore.” Bones tried to give him a weak smile, but it came out as a grimace instead. His hold on Jim’s hand was loosening, and he was beginning to shiver. His eyes started to slip closed of their own volition. Jim squeezed his hand, making up for the strength that was leaving Bones’ grasp.

“Rest. It’s all right.”

And it wasn’t _all right_ , it was about the furthest thing from _all right_ that Jim could imagine, but the words eased the worried creases on Bones’ forehead and if Jim had to lie through his teeth in order to make this god awful situation just a little easier on his partner... well, he was already doing that, wasn’t he?

“It’s all right,” Jim repeated, more to himself than anything else. 

He had never before been able to imagine a future without Bones and now it was approaching far too quickly. He was hurtling fast towards a life he didn’t want to live, and Bones was suffering, but it was _all right,_ it had to be _all right_ , or Jim didn’t think he could bear this. 

Bones’ eyelids continued to flutter and he tightened his grip on Jim’s hand, seeking purchase as sleep threatened to pull him under. If he slipped away now, Jim knew, he would never resurface. 

_ Let him go _ . 

“Sleep,” Jim said gently, even as his mind screamed _No_. 

They stared at one another for a long moment, Bones’ dark eyes glistening in the dim light from the lanterns. Jim could feel liquid pooling at the corners of his own eyes, and hoped that Bones couldn’t see. He cupped Bones’ ice-cold hand in both of his own, feeling the thready pulse in Bones’ wrist, and kissed his fingers. Bones let out a sigh.

“Jim...” 

Bones’ hand loosened in Jim’s grip. His breathing faltered and his face went slack, and he slipped away in the next heartbeat.


End file.
